


This Is Not Pretty Woman

by allofthefandoms



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Beating, Healing, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Therapy, couples therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Thursday of every month. Like clockwork. Clint would come to the bar of the hotel, and see him sitting in their booth (he thought of it as their booth, it was always the same one), and join him. There would be a drink, and quiet small talk, but mostly they would sit there and give each other suggestive glances until he would stand up and lead Clint to the door. They would go up to one of the floors, to a different identical room, and it would happen. Then Clint would get paid, give him a last kiss, and go home to let himself relax, because finally, he had some money and could pay his rent and get some food. And no one ever had to know how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I gave in and wrote a hooker AU for my favorite pairing. I feel so dirty...
> 
> But many thanks to my partner in role playing crime for making this happen!

First Thursday of every month. Like clockwork. Clint would come to the bar of the hotel, and see him sitting in their booth (he thought of it as their booth, it was always the same one), and join him. There would be a drink, and quiet small talk, but mostly they would sit there and give each other suggestive glances until he would stand up and lead Clint to the door. They would go up to one of the floors, to a different identical room, and it would happen. Then Clint would get paid, give him a last kiss, and go home to let himself relax, because finally, he had some money and could pay his rent and get some food. And no one ever had to know how.

Tonight was just like any other first Thursday--Clint hurried from the office, changing shirts in the bathroom of the subway station and checking himself over in the mirror. There were bruises on his face, he couldn’t hide them. Simon had come around again, drunk, and things had not gone well. He put that out of his head. Because tonight, it would be calm and ritualistic and he could just let it all go. He hurried into the hotel’s bar, and towards their booth.

Phil sees the bruises first. It makes his hand clench around his glass and he bit his lip as his partner came over. He knew him by the name Alex, though he was sure it was a false name. After all, he had given a false name as well.

“Alex,” he murmured as the young man came up to him. “What happened?” He stroked a finger across a bruise high on Alex’s cheekbone, unexpected tears in his eyes. He knew it was silly to feel any sort of affection for a call boy, paid to pretend to love him, but it didn’t stop the little twinge he felt.

Clint felt the blush rising in his cheeks as the man he knew as James ghosted a finger across the bruises Simon had left. He winced slightly, not from pain, but from the fact that it seemed like James really did care for him. After moving away from home, Clint really didn’t have much of that anymore.  
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he said, trying to brush it off. He couldn’t let himself talk about it. This was strictly business. His personal life couldn’t bleed in or he’d be overwhelmed. “How are you?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Fine, but you’re not getting out of this discussion so easily,” Phil said softly. “Does he do this to you often? Hit you so hard he leaves marks?” He hates the thought that this beautiful person was hurt like that. The bruises were recent, mostly red rather than the purple of day old bruises and he knows that they were hours old rather than days.

He pulled Alex to him, cradling him against him. He doesn’t know what he can do to help. It isn’t like he can simply confess his love and spirit the man away. That is something out of romance novels, not real life.

Clint felt tears at the corner of his eyes then, and he couldn’t make eye contact with James. Yes. The answer was yes, Simon hit him far too often. Often enough that Ruth, his supervisor at work, had been giving him worried looks and sending out department-wide emails about what to do if a home situation is dangerous, and how management can try to help. Often enough that he had come to expect it every time he saw Simon, and yet he couldn’t get away.

He collapsed against James, trying to keep from shaking and crying. “I...I’m sorry. This is...unprofessional. Just give me a minute, and I’ll be okay, and we can continue as usual.”  
“This doesn’t have to be business as usual.” The words are out of Phil’s mouth before he can stop them, but it doesn’t make them less genuine, less real. “I am more than happy to try to help you.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “I care for you, even though it’s silly of me.” There. It’s out there. Done.

Phil lets Alex go, ducking his head as shame sends red tendrils up his face and neck. He wasn’t supposed to say that. He was never supposed to say that, even though he had felt it for months.

“My real name is Phil, by the way.”

Clint started at the words. “It...doesn’t?” He had grown attached to James, he couldn’t lie. It was so comforting to have someone who would actually treat him nicely and buy him a drink and just chat calmly with. And it was nice to have someone in bed who he wasn’t scared would hit him in the morning. It was a weird, dysfunctional sort of attraction, where sex came first and then something akin to love (maybe, but Clint would never say that, because then he couldn’t keep doing this) followed. It was the opposite of how he wanted a relationship to be, but with James it had come to feel okay. And then James dropped the bomb--he cared, too. Clint rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to calm down and sort it all out, but he couldn’t.   
“I...can we go upstairs? I really don’t want to look like a pathetic mess in the middle of a bar, I have a reputation to maintain,” he joked weakly. He had known James was a fake name, it didn’t suit the man at all. But Phil did. Phil seemed like a calm, steady, safe sort of name. Just like the man. “I’m Clint.”

“Well, Clint...” Phil stood, offering Clint his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Phil always rented the same type of room, comfortable and clean, but not one of the flashier suits some of the clients preferred. It was very much his style. But instead of the usual way they spent their evenings, all Phil did was sit on the edge of the bed, pulling Clint to him.

“You can cry with me,” He murmured, stroking Clint’s hair. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Clint found himself instinctually curling in on himself as Phil hugged him close and stroked his hair. His tears were silent, but spilled quickly down his cheeks, and the suppressed sobs made his thin shoulders shake. Phil wasn’t going to hurt him, wasn’t going to do anything but hold him, and that might have been the most incredible thing that had happened to Clint in a very long time.

“...I can’t take your money anymore,” he whispered finally.

“I’m not just going to let him hurt you like this,” Phil replied, voice equally soft. He pressed little kisses to the bruises on Clint’s face, aware that there were most likely dozens others that he couldn’t see. “I’ll take you back to my flat if I have to, but I am going to keep you away from whoever is hurting you.”

It’s funny how protective Phil has become of this fragile young man who he had just thought was going to be a weekly fuck. But he supposed that there was some truth to the idea that two people couldn’t have sex without some sort of feelings being involved. And Clint had done just that. There was something innocent and fragile about him that Phil had loved from day one, and as he got to know him, Phil had only wanted to protect him more.  
A quiet sob escaped Clint, despite how hard he was trying to be quiet. He imagined Phil taking him away, keeping him safe. He imagined not having to worry about Simon, or rent, or food, and sobbed again when he realized it was impossible, no matter Phil was saying or how much he meant it. 

“I...we can’t, Phil...we just can’t, you know that. This just doesn’t happen.” He sniffled and clung tighter to Phil’s jacket, whimpering.

“No?” Phil said. ”And why not? I want to more than anything.” And it was true. He wanted to keep Clint safe, more than anything. And so how was offering to keep him safe from a partner who was abusing him something that just couldn’t happen.

“We are already are something straight out of a romance novel.” He pulled Clint down to the bed, just curling around him protectively.  
Clint sighed and laid back with Phil. “Thats why it can’t happen. This isn’t Pretty Woman, no matter how nice that would be. I’m just an underpaid IT guy with student debt and a really fucked up personal life...and I want this so badly, but I just don’t know...”

He took a deep breath, trying to dial back his emotions. “I want to get away from Simon...but I don’t want to impose on you, I really don’t, and I shouldn’t.”

“You would be anything but an imposition, Clint,” Phil said softly, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “It’s not like I couldn’t afford to have you as a kept man.” The thought of coming home to Clint every day, and not just waiting for Thursdays to see him is thrilling and wonderful. But Phil knows it’s more complicated than that. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to fight to make it work.

“I want to be with you, and I’ll fight for that if I have to.” He rolled Clint over, peppering his face with warm, soft kisses.

The words ‘kept man’ made Clint’s stomach roll. He didn’t want to be that, he didn’t want to be someone’s fuck buddy, even someone as incredible and kind as Phil, all he had wanted was to have some quick cash so he could pay the bills and keep himself marginally fed, he hadn’t planned on falling for someone and becoming their regular and now wanting to run away with the, he had wanted something simple, not this, but now he didn’t want to let it go. He shifted uncomfortably and swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. “I...I don’t know.”

A hole opened up in the pit of Phil’s stomach when he saw Clint’s expression and he pulled away  
.  
“I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?” Phil hates himself, hates himself for opening his big fat mouth and ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him. He pulled away, sitting up as he did so.

“You can go if you like,” he said wretchedly. “I’ll still pay you for tonight.”

Clint sat up with Phil, guilt curling in his gut and making him feel even worse. He gently rubbed Phil’s shoulders, then slotted himself against Phil’s back, chin on his shoulder, temple against his ear. “...kept man. I don’t know if I could be that. I know it’s dumb of me to refuse help like that, but...I want to accept your help as a friend or a...” He couldn’t bring himself to say lover, not really, even friend sounded strange. “...or as equals, I guess. If that’s not what you want, then...then I’ll keep coming every Thursday, but that’s all.”

“It was a joke,” Phil said thickly, hating himself for making Clint feel like this. “So I’m going to tell you exactly what I want, in no uncertain terms.” He turned into Clint’s embrace, breathing in his familiar warm smell.

“I want to wake up every morning knowing you were beside me the night before. I want you to come home to well cooked meals and your own space. I want you to spend Thursday nights curled up on my couch rather than looking for a stranger to pay for your next meal. I want to get to watch you walk across the stage to get your Master’s and not have to worry about where the money comes from. I want to see you living the life you want, not the life you have.”

Clint was crying by the time Phil had finished. He wrapped his arms tightly around Phil’s shoulders, feeding off of his calm, steady presence and for the first time in a long time, letting himself imagine all those things without a knot of anxiety in his stomach. They were tears of hope that spilled down his face. 

“I...I’ll come with you. Thank you, thank...” he choked back a sob. “Phil, thank you so much...”

Phil clings for a long moment, his heart too big to fit in his chest. This could happen.

“I’ve been alone so long that I can’t believe this is happening,” Phil said softly, his own voice thick with unshed tears. He pulled Clint to his feet, gently wiping away the last of his tears.

“Well? Shall we?”

Clint took a few steadying breaths, and then stood. “I’ve been alone, too, in a way. I don’t think Simon really counts...” He sighed, pushing away thoughts of his evil semi-ex. He nodded at Phil. “I’m coming to your house now?”

“That was the idea,” Phil said. “But only if you want.” He doesn’t want to go too fast, doesn’t want to make Clint feel pressured or unhappy. Not when this is so fragile and new.

“We could spend the night here, like we planned.”

Clint considered for a moment. “I’d like to see your place, actually. I’ve slept in this bed before, it’s not that great. I’d like to try yours out.” He smiled gently. “I just have to stop at my place before. I need to get my stuff for work in the morning.”

“OK.” Phil pressed a soft kiss to Clint’s lips before they went downstairs. Phil hailed a cab. directing it to the address Clint gave him, and they were off. The two of them curled up in the back seat, the warm intimacy of contact even more pleasurable for Phil than actual sex. When the arrived, Phil stayed in the taxi while Clint got his things.

Clint didn’t want Phil to see his apartment, see how really bad things actually were. It was legitimately two rooms--a bedroom and a kitchen, with a communal bathroom at the end of the hall, and in shabbier shape than most college dorms. The water got shut off every so often, and Clint was usually too busy working to keep it that clean. He gathered up a toothbrush, his clothes, and his work bag, and then, on second thought, a pack of cigarettes. It had been a rough day.

He hurried back downstairs. “Hey, sorry that took so long.”

“Barely took ten minutes,” Phil said with a smile. He tried not to frown at the meagre collection of things that Clint had with him, and instead tugged him back against his side as Clint slipped in next to him.

Phil’s house was a brownstone apartment by Central Park, a beautiful well-kept house in a beautiful well-kept neighborhood.   
“Welcome home,” Phil said softly, leading Clint into the living room. The house was open and spacious, cream with red and black accents. His house had been what Phil had babied, without a real person in it, but it was that much warmer with Clint’s presence.

“Make yourself at home.”

Clint stepped into the house, kicking off his ratty tennis shoes at the door and hanging his bag on a hook. “Wow...your house is absolutely gorgeous,” he said, feeling exceptionally inadequate amongst such nice things. He gingerly sat down on the couch. “So...I don’t think I ever found out exactly what it is you do...?”

“I work as a high level government agent,” Phil said, softly. “I can’t really tell you more than that, but for the most part it’s glorified, well paid paper pushing.” Grabbing a blanket, he tackled Clint with it, bundling him up as they lay tangled together.

“Don’t ever think you don’t belong here.”  
Clint's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa, really? That really interesting. I wanted to go into government, but...things didn't work out." He frowned. Yet another thing that had gone wrong thanks to trusting Simon. 

He let out a yelp as Phil tackled him, but he grinned. "Thank you," Clint murmured. "I'm just not used to this."

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to it,” Phil said with a smile. “You want anything to eat or drink? I’d be happy to cook something for you.” Clint was so warm in Phil’s arms and it was like a missing piece of Phil’s heart had suddenly been filled.

Clint grinned. "Okay. Yeah, I'm sure I'll get over my shock pretty quickly." he snuggled into Phil's touch, enjoying the security of having someone he knew wouldn't hurt him. 

"Something to eat would be great, thanks. I don't need anything fancy, don't fuss too much."

“But I want to fuss.” It was only half a joke, but Phil knew Clint wouldn’t be overly appreciative of that sort of coddling. After all, he didn’t want to be a kept man. So Phil slipped out of Clint’s fleece covered embrace and went to put on water for pasta and tea. Returning with two steaming mugs, Phil tucked Clint back against him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

Clint smiled gently at Phil. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. I never really have anyone making a big deal over me, so this is kinda nice." He wrapped his hands around the mug and inhaled deeply. "That smells delicious."

“Just something simple,” Phil said with a smile, nursing his tea. “I cook this all the time for myself, so I figure it would be a simple thing for your first night here. Are you comfortable? Anything else you need?” 

Clint grinned, and took a deep drink of the tea. "What kind of tea is this?" He asked, leaning back against Phil and kissing his jaw.   
"I'm fine, Phil, really," he said shifting against Phil's chest to get more comfortable. He winced a little as he turned his sore ribs--Simon had shoved him against the kitchen counter. 

“Earl Grey,” Phil said. “With a little milk and sugar.” He sees Clint flinch in pain and his heart lurches.

“How badly are you hurt?” Phil asked, running a gentle hand over Clint’s ribcage. “I know first aid and would be happy to look them over for you. Maybe get you some painkillers if you need them.” He can’t resist the urge to tuck Clint closer to him, fighting not to ask him where he can find this horrible excuse of a person--Simon, Clint had said.

"I'm fine, I promise," Clint said instantly, going into defensive mode. He relaxed slightly at Phil's touch, though, and sighed. "...maybe just make sure I didn't crack anything?" he said meekly. 

“I can do that,” Phil said, pressing a warm kiss to Clint’s forehead before shifting so he could pull up his shirt. The bruise he found made Phil ball his hand in the hem of Clint’s shirt, gritting his teeth so he didn’t say anything stupid. It’s already a huge mottled mess, red and angry under Phil’s gently probing hands. Nothing feels cracked, but Clint is most likely suffering from a deep bone bruise, which for all intents and purposes feels like a fracture. He explained all of this to Clint before getting an ice pack, some ibuprofen and their dinner.

Clint winced as Phil's hands probed along his ribs and chest. Simon had been especially rough with him, and he hadn't been sure how he was going to please Phil if things had been business as usual. He pressed the ice pack to his ribs. "Am I going to have to go to the doctor?" He smiled and accepted the food. "Thank you."

“I don’t think so, but let me know if anything seems to change. Pay extra attention to any feelings of lightheadedness, or pressure. You could be experiencing pain for up to 6 weeks, though I hope you heal faster than that.” He tucked himself around Clint, his own plate in his lap.

“So, anything you want to do tonight? TV, a movie, just lying here?”

Clint nodded. "Will do," he said, digging in. Oh, god, that was incredible. He hadn't had something to eat that had tasted that good since he had gone home for thanksgiving last year. It was delicious. He took a break from practically inhaling his food to look up at Phil. "This is so good, thank you."

He shrugged. "We could see what's on TV."

“I’m glad you like it,” Phil said softly, stroking Clint’s hair. He was still mad about what had happened, but he turned on the TV before giving Clint the remote.

“You pick something.”

"It's the best thing I've eaten in a really long time. Probably since I left home...which was kind of a long time ago." He smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling both silly and homesick. "but, uh...that's not really important now," Clint finished quietly. 

He flipped through the channels (sweet Jesus, god bless cable, he had missed it so much), stopping on TCM. "Singing in the Rain! Want to watch this?"

“I love this movie,” Phil said fondly, pressing a warm kiss to Clint’s cheek. “This is perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon confronts Clint and Phil.

Oh, god this was so bad. Phil was going to be so upset. Clint pressed the sleeve of his shirt to his nose, trying to stop the blood, and stumbled down the street. Simon had come to work and shouted at him, dragging him outside and smacking him around, shouting about how Clint still owed him and had to come back with him. Clint had managed to placate him for the time, and then hurried home. With fumbling hands, he unlocked the door. "Phil...?"

“Oh god!” Phil felt his heart sink as he saw battered Clint at the door, spiriting him into the bathroom to take stock of his injuries. He was covered in blood and bruises and he hated that Clint kept flinching as he tried to clean up the worst of his injuries.

“It was Simon, wasn’t it?” Phil said, voice thick with both anger and sadness. “I swear to god, I am going to kill him.” 

It wasn’t until Phil had him seated on the edge of the tub and was trying to clean him up as gently as possible that Clint realized he was shaking, violently. Every time Phil’s hands got near his face, all he could see was Simon, hitting him and growling how Clint was still his, still owed him a debt from everything he had done for Clint, and it made Clint’s stomach turn.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, just don’t--don’t go after him, please, don’t get hurt...” he mumbled, shuddering away from Phil’s hands.

Phil dropped his hands, hating that Clint was scared of him. He wrung out the cloth, handing it to Clint with a pained look before backing away to the door.

“I’m not going to let him do this to you anymore. You’re not his boyfriend anymore and it’s time he learns this. And you keep telling me not to report him to the police, so I have to take things into my own hands.”

Clint took the washcloth and twisted it between his hands, the cool water running over sore wrists and knuckles. His breathing began to hitch, and it felt like the walls of the bathroom were closing in on him as images of Simon doing something like this to Phil flashed through his mind. “Phil, no, please, I don’t want you to be hurt, please,” he gasped, reaching out with a shaking hand. The need to touch Phil, to hold him back, was greater than the fear.

When Clint reaches out for him, Phil went to kneel between his legs, close enough that Clint could touch him as he wished. He knew enough about post-traumatic stress to not want to do anything without his express permission.

“I’m going to report him, Clint. I can’t stand by and let him keep hurting you.” He knew that was something Clint didn’t want, but this was too much.

Still trembling, Clint reached out and ran his damp fingers through Phil’s hair, trying to get a deep breath and keep from shaking apart. Phil was his anchor, and he couldn’t have Phil leave him, not now, not to go do that.

He clenched his free fist, digging his nails into his palm. “...o-okay...” he said, tears pooling in his eyes.   
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you get hurt. I love you too much.” He smoothed out Clint’s clenched hand, pressing a kiss to the red crescents marked by his fingernails. He heard a knock on the door, and Phil went to get it.

“So you’re the bitch who thinks he can take Clint away from me.”

"Where is he?" Simon growled, trying to push past Phil and get into the house. "Where is that ungrateful little slut, you tell him he still owes me. You hear that, Clint? I know you're in there!" He shouted. 

In the bathroom, Clint whimpered and curled in on himself. His anxiety attack was hitting him full-force, and he could barely breathe properly. Oh god, Simon was here...

“My boyfriend doesn’t owe you anything,” Phil said mildly. He knows Clint will be on the edge of a panic attack, knows that this is literally the worst thing that could happen. And when Simon catches him off guard, Phil staggering backwards at the force of his punch, he understands that there is no peaceful way to resolve this.

“If you do not turn around and make yourself scarce, I swear to god you will not like what happens.”

"Like hell! He owes me everything. Get him out here." Simon glared at Phil. "And you, you think he's yours?!" He laughed. "Clint doesn't belong to you. He's using you. The little bitch." Simon pulled back to hit Phil again. Simon had force on his side, but was woefully unskilled. 

Now that Phil was ready for it, it was easy to dodge the next punch. But Simon was boiling with anger, and Phil had to back up to keep himself from being hit. And once Simon had enough room to move, he stalked past Phil.

“Clint, lock the door!” He was going to keep Clint safe no matter what the cost to his own safety.

Clint scrambled to the bathroom door and forced it closed, hands fumbling with the lock. He managed to get it locked not a moment too soon. Simon's foot connected with the door just seconds after Clint had turned the lock. "Phil!" He called out, clambering as far away from the door as he could. 

Denied what he had came for, Simon turned back to Phil, even angrier than before.

“You really think you’ll be able to keep him locked up forever?” he asked as he stalked towards Phil. “Because I’ll come back as many times as it takes.” Phil held up his cell phone, a grim smile on his face.

“Clint’s not the one who’s going to be locked up.”

Simon flew at him, and managed to pin Phil against the wall, making it nearly impossible for Phil to dodge. Simon was big and strong, but eventually Phil found his opening, sending Simon sprawling to the ground. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Simon bellowed, launching himself at Phil again. But this time Phil was ready, and sent him right back on the floor. He rested his foot lightly on Simon’s throat, a warning that Phil was now utterly in charge.

“Maybe this time you’ll stay down,” Phil hissed.

Simon coughed and tried to fight back, but with Phil's foot on his throat, his self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he stilled, glaring daggers at Phil. "You fucking psycho, let me go."

Clint tentatively unlocked the door, still shaking and too dangerously short of breath. "Ph-phil..." he stammered. 

"You ungrateful slut!" Simon shouted, glaring up at Clint and fighting to get free.

“Stay still!” Phil pressed down hard enough to make Simon wheeze. The doorbell rang and Phil nodded to Clint.

“It’s the police. Can you go answer it for me so I don’t have to let this scumbag up?”

Clint nodded, and stumbled to the front door, letting the two officers in. they immediately went to Phil and Simon, helping secure the latter and put him in handcuffs. Clint leaned against the wall and sank down, dropping his head between his knees. 

Phil was still dealing with the officers who had taken Simon away, explaining what had happened. They wanted to take both of them to the hospital, but Phil wasn’t sure Clint would be up for talking about this, and went to Clint’s side, sinking down next to him.

“They want to take us both to the hospital to document what happened. I know you’re upset, but I think it would be a good idea. You can get an x-ray, maybe some pain medication. What do you think?”

Clint looked at him, glassy eyed and shaking. "...okay. But don't...please don't leave me alone." he clung tightly to Phil's arm as they were driven to the hospital, and though he was still tense and scared, but he was calming down slightly. 

Phil cradled Clint to him the whole way there, refusing to leave his side when the nurses wanted to split them up. Phil had gotten off lightly, his nose not even broken, but it turned out that Clint had spiderweb fractures in his ribs along with heavy bruising elsewhere. The hardest part was talking to the authorities. Phil fully intended to press charges, knowing that that was the only way to put an end to this for good, but it left Clint shaking and upset.

“He’s not going to hurt you again, sweetheart,” Phil promised as Clint cried into his shoulder. “I promise.”

The time in the hospital went by in a blur, the only thing keeping Clint from completely shutting off was the fact that Phil stayed with him, holding his hand and soothing him when the nurses had to touch him and bandage up his ribs. And then the police were there, asking Clint to describe this experience, and then others, then the way Simon had yelled at him, forced him into sex...by then end, Clint was a shaking mess, tears streaking down his face. The police finally left him alone with Phil, and Clint sobbed freely into Phil's shoulder. 

Phil hated seeing Clint like this. He littered the crown of his head with kisses, running soothing hands over Clint’s shoulders and muttering calming nonsense to try to get him to stop shaking.

When they got home, Phil bundled Clint into their bedroom, tucking him in before curling around him. Clint was finally calm, the painkillers and sedatives numbing his mind and body, and he was pliant in Phil's hands. He laid down in bed and leaned into Phil, glad for the heat source. "M’sorry," he muttered thickly.

“Jesus,” Phil said softly. “What on earth are you sorry for, Clint? This was horrible and I completely understand why you’d be upset.” He tugged Clint as close as he could, resting his chin in the crook of Clint’s neck.

“If anything, I’m proud of the way you handled yourself. Not everyone can talk to the police after something like this, and this way, you’ll be safe for the rest of your life.”

Clint took a minute to try and compose a thought through the fog of exhaustion and pain killers. "...no, m'sorry he hurt you. Didn't want that." He rolled over, wincing slightly, and buried his face in Phil's chest, whimpering. "He hurt you, and I said I'd keep you safe..."

“Better me than you,” Phil said softly. “Or did you forget that I’ve been trained to take bullet wounds and torture? Beating down a bully is nothing compared to some things I’ve had to do. And this way I can make sure he never lays a finger on you again. Now go to sleep, love.”

Clint, too exhausted to protest, nodded and closed his eyes. "Thank you..."

“I love you so much.” Phil watched Clint drift off, hoping he would be able to rest easy with the Vicodin in his system. He kept him in his arms, even though Phil wasn’t sleepy at all. Clint needed him there.

The inky black darkness of drug-induced sleep began to fade away near 5am the next morning, and with that came discomfort, and terrifying flashes of things Clint didn’t want to remember, even if they hadn’t really happened. He moaned and twisted slightly in his sleep, trying to shake off the dream, and come back to himself.

Phil woke from his half sleep to find Clint tossing in his arms, crying out for Simon to stop hurting Phil. Phil let him go, knowing that holding him down wouldn’t help.

“Clint, please wake up,” Phil implored. “You’re safe. I’m safe. Simon is in jail. He can’t hurt us.”

 

Clint gasped and squirmed, finally opening his eyes and looking around wildly. Safe. He was safe. Safe in Phil’s huge, comfortable, expensive bed, wrapped in the quilt his mom had brought from the old country, and none of it had been real. 

“I...I’m awake,” he gasped, sucking in deep breaths and laying back against the pillow.

Phil pulled Clint to him, stroking his hair. Seeing Clint this distressed was horrible and Phil didn’t really know what else to do.

“I’m here, Clint,” he whispered, tucking Clint against him. “You’re safe here.” 

Clint took a few more deep breaths, and nodded, curling against Phil’s warmth. “I know. I know I’m safe with you...and thank you. For...for everything. I don’t say it enough. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Clint,” Phil said softly, stroking Clint’s hair. “I love you, and you give me just as much as I give you. That’s what a relationship is, right? Give and take.” Phil isn’t about to tell Clint that seeing him this broken terrifies him. Clint needs him to be calm and steady, not a mess, and that’s what Phil is going to do.

Clint nuzzled into Phil, sighing. “Yeah. Give and take. I just feel like I take a lot, and I love you, too, so I don’t want to be selfish or anything.” He wound his fingers in Phil’s shirt, rubbing the soft material between thumb and pointer finger.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” 

“Maybe a glass of water?”

“I can do that,” Phil said, pressing a kiss to Clint’s forehead before slipping out of bed to go to the bathroom. He poured a glass of cold water, coming back before setting it on the bedside table so he can prop Clint up so he can drink.

“There,” Phil said, stroking Clint’s hair. “Drink up.”

Clint winced slightly as he accepted the glass, and gulped it down, the cool liquid helping to calm him even more. “Thanks,” he said softly, trying to ignore the deep pain in his chest. “What time is it?”

“A little past 5,” Phil replied, tucking Clint back into bed. He cast an observant eye over Clint, frowning as he saw Clint wince in pain. “You were having a nightmare.”

Clint nodded. It was early enough that he could go back to sleep, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to, not after the dreams he had been having. "Yeah, it happens. It wasn't that bad, though," he lied, letting his head fall against Phil's shoulder. 

“Don’t lie to me, Clint,” Phil pled. “You were dreaming he was hurting me, weren’t you?” All he could do was pull Clint to him, stroking his hair with an equal mixture of love and sadness.

Clint shivered. "Yeah, I was...he wasn't, though, and you're safe and I know that...but everything's so messed up in my head, and thinking about it makes it even worse...I don't want to deal with this, Phil."

 

Phil felt his heart wrench at Clint’s broken plea, and wished there was more that he could do to make this better.

 

“It would probably be a good idea for you to seek counseling,” Phil said softly. “Maybe we should even go together. I feel just as helpless as you do and I don’t know how to fix this.”

 

Sighing, Clint nodded. "Okay...if you'll come with me, I'll do it. I dunno if I can go on my own, but I'll go if you're there." He threaded one hand with Phil's, holding tight.   
“Then let’s go together,” Phil said softly. “I'll organize something in the morning for us. I think it will really help both of us in dealing with this and being able to move on as a couple. I love you too much not to try. Now you try to get some more rest ok? I’ll be right here.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now there is porn. Enjoy!

His ribs were healed enough that Clint could start working out again, and so he did, with a passion. Some days he went to the gym and lifted weights and boxed, other days he swam lap, and some mornings he would slip out of bed early while Phil was still sleeping and go running. It was nice, to be out in their quiet neighborhood, just having time to himself. Some days he just jogged, some days he sprinted, but no matter what, he always came back to the house feeling calm and centered. He slipped in the front door that morning, kicking off his muddy shoes (it had rained the night before) and pulling off his sweaty t-shirt, heading for the bathroom.

“Enjoy your morning run?” Phil said with a smile. He was pleased Clint had found something that left him feeling so calm. Most of his life, no matter how much they hated to admit it, was stressful. The group therapy was hard, but both of them could see real progress. It was easier to help him through the rough nights, and the bad nights were fewer and farther between.

Clint smiled, wiping his t-shirt across his face. God, he was disgusting. But it was the good kind of disgusting, that also was a feeling of accomplishment. “Yeah, it was good. It’s really sloppy out there, though. I’m pretty sure I managed to splash mud into my hair.” He used his shirt to also wipe down his arms and calves. “I’d give you a kiss, but...” Clint chuckled.

“Go shower,” Phil said with a grin. “I’ll cook breakfast and you can kiss me when you’re clean.”

Clint laughed and hurried into the bathroom, stripping down and using more hot water than was strictly necessary. He had been Spartan with his showers the first few weeks of living with Phil, until Phil had pointed out that there was plenty of hot water, and no one was going to turn it off on Clint. Then, showers became a thing of luxury. He was quick, though, and hurried back to Phil in clean clothes. “Hey,” he said, pecking his cheek.

“Hey yourself,” Phil said, serving bacon and pancakes onto two plates so they could eat before going off to their respective jobs. “Good to see you in such a bright mood.”

Clint accepted his plate with a grateful smile. Sometimes he still felt a little guilty, like he was living off of Phil’s money, but he knew that Phil loved him, and that it wasn’t an issue. At least he tried to convince himself of that. “Running is really...meditative. Like, I can think about nothing, just running. Gives me something to focus in on.” He sat at the table and dug in.

“I know,” Phil said softly. “I’m glad you’ve found something pro-active and healthy that helps.” Phil isn’t about to tell him, but he had been worried that Clint was going to turn his pain inwards and end up hurting himself. And Phil didn’t know what he would have done if he had done that.

Clint smiled up at him. “Yeah, me too. I don’t really like to wallow in the bad stuff if I can help it. You kind of...gave me a second chance, and I really don’t want to waste that.” He looked up at the man who had literally saved his life, in multiple ways, and couldn’t help but smile wider. It was so incredible to feel so loved, and love so deeply back.

Phil pressed a kiss to Clint’s forehead, heart swelling with love.

“I do my best, love. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were something else.” He scooped up their now empty plates, taking them to the sink so he can clean them enough so the syrup wouldn’t clog the dishwasher.

Clint smiled at him and shrugged. “I’m not really anything special. I mean, I don’t suck, but I’m just, you know...average.” He didn’t say it like it was a bad thing. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being average, and he did. Because despite everything that had happened in his life, Clint was still to his core a humanist, and believed that average people were wonderful, that they each had the spark of divinity in them.

Phil has had this discussion with Clint before, and shakes his head.

“You are special to me, Clint. More so than any other person on the face of the earth.” Phil pulled him into an embrace, not worrying about his soapy hands or the fact that Clint was getting his wet hair on his collar. He just had to make sure Clint knew how much he mattered. 

Clint smiled and hugged Phil back just as hard, chuckling a little. “I know. And you’re more important to me than anyone else, too, I swear.” He pulled back and kissed Phil chastely. “Now, don’t you have work to get to?”

Phil made a displeased noise as he pulled away, wiping his hands before grabbing his suitcase, giving Clint a kiss and leaving for work.

Clint left not long after, but was home far earlier than usual, curled up on the couch under a blanket and fast asleep by the time Phil even got home. A glass of water and a bottle of Pepto Bismol sat on the coffee table next to him.

“Not feeling well?” Phil asked, stroking Clint’s hair. He wasn’t sure Clint was awake, but seeing him already wiped out like this made Phil worried.

Clint blinked blearily and looked up. “Someone made cake at work and I had a slice...it had coconut in it.” He wasn’t as deathly allergic to coconut as he was to regular nuts, but there was enough of a sensitivity that he had gotten sick from it. “I really need to stop blindly putting food in my mouth before knowing what it is.”

“Baby...” Phil said, rubbing Clint’s head. “Let me get you into a real bed, ok? I’m going to make you drink another glass of water, and I’ll cuddle with you. Deal?”

Clint nodded. “I think I’m done puking at this point,” he said as he sat up, wrapping the afghan tighter around his shoulders. “I really, really want to cuddle. That sounds like a really good idea.”

Phil gave Clint a sad smile as he helped him into the bedroom, positioning a trash can within easy reach just in case Clint’s stomach decided it needed it again after all, and tucked himself around him, letting Clint be the little spoon.

Clint sighed and leaned into Phil, letting his warmth and steady presence help drive away the shaky, nauseous, headachy feeling. “You take such good care of me,” he said softly.

“That’s because you are special to me,” Phil said simply, running soothing patterns across Clint’s back. “That’s because I love you."

Clint smiled a little. “I feel like you’d be a really good dad. Like, really incredibly good at being a parent.” He sighed softly. Clint had wanted kids since he was little, and had practically raised his younger siblings at times. He was just nervous about bringing it up with Phil.

“I hope we can adopt a kid someday,” Phil said softly. “You’d be as good a father as me if not better.”

The smile on Clint’s face spread, and he turned slightly to look at Phil. “I would love to adopt. I’ve wanted to be a dad...god, since I was a kid. I helped my sister take care of her baby dolls. Then, when I was old enough, I took care of my siblings. I just...I love kids.” He chuckled a little.

“We should consider looking into it soon,” Phil said with a smile. “This sort of thing can take years to finally work out, and we shouldn’t put it off too much longer.”

“Really? You want to?” He couldn’t help it--getting to raise a kid with Phil still sounded too good to be true. “Yeah, if you want to, I would love to start looking into this.”

“Of course I want to,” Phil said with a smile. “I’ve found the perfect partner, and my life is stable and secure and what better place to have a child?”

Clint beamed, and rolled over so he could hug Phil tightly. “You are so incredible. I would be honored to raise a kid with you.”

Phil felt like his smile was going to split his face. There was only one more thing that could make this more perfect, and Phil had already bought the ring.

The next day, Phil surprised Clint at lunch, saying he was going to treat him at one of their favorite restaurants. His hands were shaking with nerves and his smile was a little wobbly.

Clint grinned across the table at Phil. "So, what's the occasion? We normally only go here for something really special." He cracked a wry smile. "Have I been extra good or something recently?"

Phil ducked his head, a blush creeping up his face. He reached into his suit jacket pocket as he stood, going to one knee as Clint stared at him with incredulous wide eyes.

“I love you so much, Clint,” Phil said, fighting back tears. “I would ask you to give me the honor of marrying me and sharing the rest of our lives.”

As Phil got down on one knee, Clint felt his breath catch in his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes. Somehow, there had never been a doubt in his mind that he would always be with Phil, but there was something about Phil wanting it just as much as he did that made his get a little weak in the knees. 

"Yes..." he said, his voice thick with tears. "Yes, I do. I will."

The ring is just a simple gold band, engraved with their shared initials. Phil slipped the ring onto Clint’s finger, the tears he fought to hold back oozing out of the corners of his eyes. He hands Clint a matching black box, containing a matching ring, letting Clint slip it onto his finger in turn.

“Oh Clint...” Phil murmured, pulling him into his arms. “I love you so much and every day I am blessed that you are here with me.”

Clint clung tightly to Phil, tears flowing freely down his face, despite the huge grin. "God, I love you so much, I don't know where I'd be without you...actually, I do know, and that's why I'm so blessed to have you in my life." he pulled back and pressed a kiss to Phil's lips. 

Phil pulls away long enough to rest their foreheads together, clinging to Clint with all his joy and love and hope. This was the man he was going to marry, the man who he was going to raise a kid with, and it was going to be more than Phil could have ever dreamed.

Clint laughed quietly. "Look at us. Two grown men crying like babies in the middle of the restaurant." He kissed Phil's cheek and wiped away the stray tears. "I love you so much. Thank you for wanting me this much."

“I always wanted you,” Phil said brushing away his last few stray tears before sitting back down, not letting go of Clint’s hand. “And the fact that you have been willing to give so much of yourself to me, after all that has happened to you, is nothing short of beautiful.”

Clint smiled and squeezed Phil's hand. "You're the one who helped me through everything. You're the reason I haven't imploded or completely fallen off the face of the earth." he lifted their entwined hands and kissed Phil's. "I guess now that we're going to get married, you should probably meet my family."

“Only if you want,” Phil said with a smile. “I am sure as hell not bringing you to meet mine...” There is a mixture of pain and wistfulness in his voice, but Phil shakes it off with a weak smile and orders his food.

"They'll love you, I promise. I know they will." Clint had gathered the story of Phil's family piece by piece over their time together, and he completely understood not wanting to let any of that toxicity back into his life. After Simon, he couldn't imagine anything worse. Clint squeezed Phil's hand. "What about Eva and Jane?"

“I lost touch with them...” It was one of the saddest things that had happened to him, falling out of touch with the two women who took him in after his family had rejected him, but it had happened. It had been almost 20 years since he had talked to them, and he had no idea how he could change that.

Clint frowned. He knew for Phil, they were the closest thing he had to a family, and Clint silently resolved that he would find them and send them secret invitations to surprise Phil. "That's a shame," he said, masking his plan with a sad sigh.

“I miss them,” Phil said, his voice quiet. “If there is one thing I regret, it’s that I can’t show them what a beautiful man I’m going to marry.”  
Clint sighed, and leaned across the table to kiss Phil’s cheek. “Wish I could meet them, too. They sound wonderful.” He smiled gently, and the waiter brought them water. “I can’t believe you sprung this on me. It’s...it’s so incredible.”

“You deserve every happiness,” Phil said, smiling at Clint over the table. “And I am going to give them to you.”

The rest of the day, Phil is on cloud nine, unable to contain his joy. All he wants is to curl up in his bed with his boyfriend--Fiancé now--and never leave, but there is work to be done, bills to be paid, and a partner to be cherished.

After his lunch with Phil, it was a long day at work. He was distracted without Phil around to just touch and hold and generally gape at in shock and awe--though that would have been more distracting. Because Clint truly felt stunned. He breezed through the day on autopilot, watching the clock and praying for it to speed up so he could get home to Phil. Finally, he grabbed his bag, bolted to the subway and made his way home.

Phil is waiting for him, and pulled him into a searing kiss the moment he walked in the door. Phil had been wanting him ever since lunch (which had proved quite the distraction) and now that he could have Clint all to himself, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.

Clint moaned into the kiss, pulling back to grin. “Hello to you too,” he chuckled, dropping his bag on the floor and wrapping his arms around Phil. “I missed you.”

“Thought about this all day,” Phil murmured, already breathless. “Wanted you so badly I was distracted in the middle of a meeting.” The two of them move together towards the bedroom, shedding clothes as they go. Phil first loses his tie, and then his suit jacket, panting into Clint’s ear.

Clint is tugging his sweater off as they stumble through the bedroom door. He lets the clothes fall where they may, knowing that there’s no worry about letting them be on the floor for a few hours. Because if he had his way, he won’t be leaving Phil’s side (or the bed) for a few hours. “I didn’t even think...of this aspect. I just wanted to be with you.” 

Phil laughs, a deep warm sound, as he presses Clint to the bed, pressing kisses to every inch of Clint’s exposed skin that he could reach.

“I want you in every way all the time,” Phil murmurs right up against Clint’s ear as he grinds down on their growing erections. “But today... God you were so beautiful today...”

Clint whimpered a little, tangling one hand in Phil’s hair, and the other slipping between them to palm Phil’s erection. “Beautiful?” He asked, shivering as warm lips pressed against his cool skin. “I didn’t do anything different.”

Phil laughs, a low, deep dirty sound from the back of his throat.

“It’s the way you looked at me, like I was your whole world.” The next kiss was dirty and needy, all tongue and teeth, his hands wandering the expanse of Clint’s chest, toying with his nipples.

Clint laughed into the kiss, but was soon distracted by Phil’s mouth--tongue and teeth taking Clint’s lips and breath prisoner, making him moan softly. “You’re always my whole world,” he gasped when they pulled back for air after a moment. “Always.”

Phil worked his way down Clint’s body, pressing needy kisses across his skin until he reached the joint between legs and torso. He pressed nipping kisses to the spot where skin creased, licking at the faint taste of sweat there before moving to lick a drop of pre-come off of the head of Clint’s cock.

Clint moaned obscenely, winding his hand in Phil’s hair and shivering.   
“You...christ...that feels so...” he bucked his hips towards Phil’s mouth. “Please,” he keened.

Phil just smiled around Clint’s cock, lapping and licking at it like it was a lollipop. He loved doing this for Clint, loved unraveling him with his hands and mouth.

Whimpering, Clint laid his head back and closed his eyes, trying to keep it together as long as he could. He wanted to enjoy this. “M-more...please,” he gasped.

Phil took a moment to lick a finger before swirling it around Clint’s entrance, tracing the puckered and sensitive skin there. He wanted Clint to come before Phil fucked him, and took as much of his cock down as he could.

Clint gasped and moaned loudly, and bucked his hips up slightly. “Can...can I fuck your mouth? Please?” It wasn’t often that Clint asked for anything specific in bed, he was mostly happy with whatever Phil liked, because Phil generally knew exactly what to do to make Clint feel incredible. But now he wanted something more, and he had to ask.

Phil pulled away, giving a full body shudder at the thought.

“I’m yours however you want me,” Phil murmured.

Whimpering, Clint pushed back into Phil’s mouth, and began to thrust into Phil’s mouth. He cupped the back of Phil’s head for more leverage, and pushed in deeper.

Phil just focused on relaxing his throat, swallowing with each of Clint’s thrusts and   
taking shallow breaths when he pulled out. He choked a little, but for some reason it just made it hotter, and Phil moaned around one especially sharp thrust.

The part of Clint's brain that normally would have been worried that he was hurting Phil seemed to have been mollified by Phil's greedy moans and calm demeanor, leaving Clint totally free to enjoy himself. He bucked harder and groaned deeply. "Oh, fuck...close..."

Phil pressed his hand into a sensitive join where Clint’s leg met torso, silently egging him on. He wanted to taste Clint so badly, taste and feel him come undone and he was so close...

Clint came with a loud, obscene groan, thrusting hard into Phil's mouth and tangling one hand in the bed sheets. "...fuck," he murmured hoarsely as he dropped back against the bed. 

Phil had swallowed greedily, and pulled off as he made sure he had gotten every drop of come out of Clint’s cock.

“You should ask for things more often,” Phil said voice hoarse and fucked out. “Because I came without even touching myself, that was so hot.”

 

Blushing, Clint looked up. "Seriously?" he asked, running a hand through his now slightly-damp hair. "You didn't think it was too rough?" Used to doing what was asked of him and what he was told to in bed, Clint was still uncertain as to what he could and couldn't do. And an abusive former partner really hadn't helped with that. Thank god he had Phil now. 

Phil let out a scratchy laugh, stroking Clint’s sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Clint,” he said softly. “I would have stopped you if you were too rough. And do you think I didn’t enjoy myself if I came without so much as a touch? It was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done, watching you come undone like that. And I’ll be honest, the fact that you never ask me for things in bed makes me worried. I want to give you exactly what you want and it makes me sad to think you’ve been trained not to ask.”

Clint frowned a little. It had always been that Simon was allowed to do whatever he wanted, but Clint couldn't be rough in return, unless that was what Simon wanted. But now he had Phil, who clearly enjoyed Clint being a little rougher, a little more assertive. "Okay. I'll ask more." He laid back and closed his eyes, then reopened them after a minute. "There's... something I want to try. Not today. Just at some point."

“Tell me,” Phil said, his interest peaked. “I want to know all the dirty little things you keep in that beautiful brain of yours.”

Clint was quiet a moment, then looked over at Phil, blushing. "I...I want to, uh, to try, um...a corset," he finished meekly. 

Phil gave a delighted full body shudder, his cock getting interested despite the mind blowing orgasm he just had. He ran his hands over Clint’s still pink chest, imagining the shift in the contours a corset would have.

“That...” Phil breathed. “That would be something else.”

Clint smiled, a little more confident now that he could tell Phil was clearly interested as well. “Maybe, uh, fishnets, or something, too.” He closed his eyes at Phil’s touch.

“Stop that!” Phil said fondly, pressing a kiss over Clint’s heart. “I’m too old for multiple orgasms in a night and if you keep talking like that I’ll have to take you shopping for those right now, just so I can tear them off you.”

Blushing, Clint stroked Phil’s hair. “You’re not old, Phil, not that old at least.” He hugged him tighter to his chest. 

“I’ll find the perfect thing for you,” Phil promised, letting Clint snuggle. “And you’ll just look devastating in it and I won’t know what to do.”

“Thanks, love,” Clint said, sighing sleepily. “For being willing to try this with me.


End file.
